In the end, he shook his head. There was simply no world in which he would ever consider Charlotte to be a good match. She was stubborn and rude and did not act like a lady at all. How could such a scandalous woman be adored by everyone? Was there something he was missing?
He felt as though he was at an art exhibition, standing in front of a painting that everyone else was cooing and murmuring over, expressing their admiration, while he found it plain.
Not that Charlotte could ever be described as plain. Her eyes were vivid; her face was always expressive. Even when she was sitting still, there was a sense of motion about her, as if she possessed the fundamental essence of life itself.
Just as thoughts of her close face crept into his mind, he shook his head and turned Bastion around. He rode faster this time, wanting to feel the air whip his face, hoping that it would be akin to the refreshing burst of cold water.
By the time he returned to the stables, Alfred had already entered the house. The stable hands helped him dismount and took Bastion from him. Nathaniel exited the stables and found Clara standing nearby, looking at the horses.
It vexed him that she ran about the house wherever she wanted, but he chose a more diplomatic tack on this occasion.
Clara stiffened when she saw him, anticipating a telling-off.
“Lady Clara are you well?” he asked, bowing deeply. Clara giggled at this official address and performed a curtsy for him. “I wanted to congratulate you on the point you scored today. You performed very well in the game.”
“Thank you! You did as well. Except at the end when you hit the ball away.”
“I believe it was Charlotte who—never mind,” Nathaniel caught himself, not wishing to get involved in an argument with Clara. He invited her to walk back into the house with him and was glad when she agreed. It annoyed him that someone, even a child, could prefer Charlotte’s company over his. At least he was on something of an even playing field again.
Clara almost broke into a run, but Nathaniel gently chided her.
“Perhaps it would be better to walk at a slower pace. That way, you can take everything in, rather than rushing by and missing everything,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. Clara gave him a sheepish grin and nodded.
He smirked, thinking that perhaps he had given Charlotte more credit than she was due. After all, taking care of children was clearly not as difficult as he had imagined. As for Hector and Brutus, well, they must have been swept away by the novelty.
Nathaniel was far too prudent to feel anything like this, however. In fact, he was quite sure the time would soon come when he wouldn’t think of Charlotte at all.
At least that’s what he told himself.
Chapter Fifteen
Afew days passed. Charlotte was able to do as the Duke wished and keep her distance. However, she moved about the house cautiously, always checking around the corners for sight of him. If she happened to hear anything that might indicate his presence, she veered away immediately.
In an attempt to distract herself, she spent a lot of time with Mary and Lydia. Edmund and Alfred, who were getting on splendidly, had taken Clara for a brisk walk, tasking her with identifying a number of things around the estate. Agatha insisted on speaking about wedding arrangements with Beatrice, and Beatrice was too polite to decline.
Presently, Charlotte, Mary, and Lydia were sitting in a sunroom, enjoying the bright light that shone through the wide windows. They were practicing their embroidery, although Charlotte’s mind kept wandering, her hands remaining still.
“Pray tell, Charlotte, is there any news of your marriage?” Mary asked.
Lydia stifled a small laugh. She had been growing more comfortable since their arrival and was no longer shy in showing different aspects of her personality.
Charlotte cast an admonishing glance in her direction.
“No, and there never shall be. I am quite happy with the way things are.”
“Still? I thought you would have changed your mind by now,” Mary said.
“Charlotte is not in the habit of changing her mind,” Lydia argued, her eyes bright with mischief.
“Not about important things, but I do change my mind when it is warranted.”
“And it’s not warranted because of His Grace?” Lydia asked lightly.
Charlotte stiffened at the mention of the Duke. For a moment, she froze and attempted to adopt a neutral expression, not wishing to betray any of her unwanted feelings to her sister and cousin.
“Why would the Duke of Winthrop warrant such a thing?” As she asked this, she could feel the words turning in her mouth. It was as though she had forgotten to speak entirely.
Lydia and Mary shared a glance. Mary looked down at her embroidery, hiding her smile, while Lydia giggled and leaned toward Charlotte.
